Like this:

Don’t be alarmed when I tell you this but I had a very wonderful dream with you last evening.

Your chest had many freckles and your hair was somehow tinged red, was longer and ran curly and wild.

You leaned into me and dipped down for a kiss that was the sweetest and most gentle of kisses, a mere brushing of lips at first and then more pressing and open, but in my mind, in my dream, even in my sleep it was more of a gift than an exploratory ardent inquiry between new lovers.

I thanked you, twice, and held you, circled my arms around your neck and touched my check to yours and then I woke.

It was very moving, very sensual, but yet professional and more of an exchange of sunshine and gratitude.

No worries, I don’t need to re-create it, but I believe, if I interpret it correctly, is just anticipation for creating with you on Saturday and a little positive reassurance I can draw upon to help me position myself in front of your lens in a way that meets the objectives of the shoot.

Kisses, more of those kind, not the other…- Moi

.

The man of the mist coaxed honesty from within her, exposed her demons to the dawn and declared her worthy.

Like this:

Music: take me back to that man in a tuxedo, that man with skilled fingers, and to the way that man held my face, in those hands. Oh, he could make women do, things, with that mouth of his.

Memories: rush back, race over and over in my most awake states, or in those quiet moments when thinking stops. Rise up, life lived, to the present, those touches not lost, never wasted, moments seized and willed into existence, carved inside my hungry head.

Mind: flood my whole self, remind me how he could overtake my hesitation… that fervent side sweep to the left and signature lower lip-tug ending, this intimate partnering and tasting, so very critical to this woman, that crazy gift he carried in his kiss.

She pushes aside how much she misses them to focus on her pride in pursuing and capturing them, this treasure, this experience of him, all tucked away, in a place where her mind freely revisits, whenever she wishes.